Crimson Memory, Golden Fate
by Kallypso
Summary: Nim's life began at fifteen when she woke with no name and no memory. For three years, she makes a new life , learning combat from a man named Lantos. But when a "training exercise" lands her in combat with the infamous, Jaime Lannister, Nim the Nameless finds herself thrust into the deadly game of thrones and discovers that she may not be as nameless as she seems. R&R.
1. Prologue

_**A/N: This is my first Game of Thrones fic and, of course, it involves Jaime Lannister, who is one of my favorite characters. This fic has a slight alternate history than the books and show. For one thing the War with the North has gone on much longer. There are other little details that are different but I'll mention those when I get to them.**_

_**There is some romance in this fic but its very slow going in it's development. Just the way I like it. Hopefully it will keep you entertained, regardless. Enjoy and review!**_

**Prologue: Simple Truths**

She chose the name Nim for herself, because she could not remember the one she was born with. Most people in Westeros had two names. A name for their family and a name for themselves. Family names were all that mattered here. Lannister, Stark, Baratheon. She remembered all the more prominent family names but she could not remember her own. So she was simply Nim. Nim Nobody.

Nim the pastless.

Her life began at fifteen when she awoke to a red sunrise and the face of a man from Bravos. He called himself Lantos, master of long knives. He fed her roast duck and asked her who she was.

"_I don't know." _she replied.

"_That is no good. Everyone must know who they are." _He replied in his strange accent.

"_I don't."_

He clicked his tongue. _"Then you must make yourself. A difficult task. But perhaps a rewarding one, if you make yourself right."_

"_How do I make myself?"_

"_First you give yourself a name." _

"_Like what?"_

"_It does not matter. It simply must be a name. An easy name to remember, since your memory is not very good."_

"_That isn't my fault!"_

"_If you cannot remember how you lost your memory, you cannot claim that it was not your fault. Choose your name, pastless girl._

Nim had no meaning. It was more like a sound than a name. But it was short and easy to remember. So she chose Nim.

"_Nim is good." _Lantos had said. _"And now, you must build a life."_

Nim gave herself a name, but in a sense, Lantos gave her life. He put two long knives in her hands. They were shorter than swords, slightly curved and thinner. But they were razor sharp and easier to move.

"_A knight uses a single blade, broad but not as versatile. With two blades you can kill two at a time. That means less people to try and stab you in the back"_

She had some technique with a blade already. Perhaps she had learned some in her old life. But he perfected her. He taught her fluidity of combat. He taught her to make her blades extensions of her arms. He taught her stealth. He taught her patience.

Though the last of these things she was harder pressed to learn.

He did not need to teach her history or family names. Nim remembered all of those. Her knowledge of the world remained though her memories of herself did not. She could speak of Aegon's landing and Robert's Rebellion but she could not say who her mother and father were, or her siblings, if she had any. She could not speak of fond memories or ill ones. She could speak none at all.

She knew only a few things now for certain. She was a sword. She was a traveler.

She was Nim.

And after two years, such simple truths made her content.

**_A/N: A short prologue to introduce our main character. Longer chapters will follow. Chapter 1 will be up soon. Thanks for reading and please review and give me your thoughts!_  
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	2. Chapter 1: The Lessons of a Thief

_**A/N: Alright, here's chapter 1 and Jaime's first appearance. I think the dialogue turned out well myself. Let me know what you think. Enjoy and review.**_

**Chapter 1: The Lessons of a Thief**

Nim crouched behind a rocky outcrop, observing a small camp of soldiers, recently settled down for the night. The sun was just beginning to dip in the sky, but the men had decided to rest while they were still nearby a village, so that they could go into town to visit the tavern whores. In the thick of war, soldiers past often through this village and the whores were never short of coin because of it. If Nim had been found by a different man, perhaps she might have become a whore.

She tended to doubt it. She didn't have a memory but she still had pride and it burned bright against such degradations.

Blood red flags flapped above the scattered tents and each one bore a golden lion. Lannister men. She saw many of them these days, now that their war with the North was over. Villagers whispered amongst themselves about the death of Robb Stark, the once Lord of Winterfell and self-proclaimed king of the North. Killed by Walder Frey, they said. At a wedding no less. A tragedy for the North but a victory for the Lannister armies. Now many of them could return home.

Lannister men were the very best to steal from, especially the officers. Their purses often hung fat with coin and their wits dulled by strong drink.

Nim sometimes stole as a necessity, but also as a training exercise. Lantos always preached the values of a thief to her during her training and often sent her out to the streets.

"_Steal me a silver without getting caught, pastless girl."_

He had his rules about thievery though.

"_Take none from the poor as they have none to spare. Leave them with their money."_

"_Do not steal from some helpless man, woman or child who cannot fight you back. Steal from a strong man with a sword at his hip. Your thievery means nothing if there is no danger behind it."_

"_Steal only for yourself. If you give your spoils to the poor then you have chosen to hold one impoverished being over another. Act for yourself and you will never face this choice."_

Lantos always had a way with advice. It had been three months since Nim had seen him, but his words never left her.

A group of three soldiers sauntered through the camp near the edge, laughing drinking wine from their skins. The haze of mild drunkenness hung in their eyes. They passed by another man sitting near the edge of the camp, cleaning his sword. This was the man Nim had been eyeing for the past several minutes. He was far enough away from the other soldiers to make stealing from him possible, but the presence of his weapon made him dangerous, as per Lantos' standards of victims. He had golden blonde hair and broad soldiers. He cleaned his sword like a seasoned fighter.

"_You can tell a man's skill by the simple things," _Lantos used to say. _"Like the way he cleans his sword. Does he clean it at all? Does he swipe the muck off quickly or with little care? Or does he work on the steel patiently?"_

This man worked the steel patiently. And when he shifted she heard coins jingle in his pockets. He would make a fine man to steal from.

"We're going off to find some lovely tavern wenches." One of the men passing by Nim's target laughed. "Care to join us?"

The blonde man's mouth twisted into a cocky smile. "I would but I'm afraid I would steal all the best women from you."

"With your coin, no doubt." A second man snorted.

"I'd like to think my handsome face does the trick."

The three men laughed. "Suit yourself, Lannister." The first man said; then he and his companions swaggered on their way.

Nim's grey eyes sparkled. This man was not only a Lannister soldier but a member of the Lannister family? Nim ran through who he could possibly be. Not the dwarf for sure. Could he be the Kingslayer? He had the look. He seemed too old to be one of the cousins to the main family.

She had heard tell that the Kingslayer was a prisoner of Robb Stark, but now that the war with the North had been won, perhaps he had been released. He looked as if he'd been through imprisonment. Bruises and cuts mottled his face in many places though he appeared free of any permanent damage. That made him qualified to be Nim's target. Her mouth quirked. A challenge indeed.

She waited for the soft, violet glow of twilight, the lighting she moved best in, before she began to creep forward, towards where the Kingslayer sat.

This would be one to tell Lantos, if she succeeded.

* * *

The end of this war did not have the same thrill to Jaime as the end of the last. In the end of Robert's Rebellion he had been the one to plunge a sword through the mad king's back as his father sacked the city. That moment, though only seconds long, had remained with Jaime every day sense. He did not regret his decision to kill the mad king. Why should he? Yet the words _Oath breaker_ and _Kingslayer_ pursued him relentlessly since.

The ending of Robert's Rebellion may have been the single most defining moment of his life. It was how a war so long and terrible should have ended. With splashes of blood and the ring of swords.

This war, on the other hand, ended without Jaime knowing it had. It ended at a wedding while Jaime sat out in the cold night, listening to the distant hum of the drunken northmen songs. He lay half asleep when the songs turned to screams and he had barely noticed. Stark banner men and the young wolf himself were cut down so close to him and yet he did not know of the war's end until Roose Bolton arrived at his prison and released him.

If Jaime's slaying of the Mad King had been dishonorable, he didn't know what Walder Frey's treachery could be called. To kill a man for breaking a vow was one thing, but to invite him under false pretenses and murder him under your own roof was something entirely different. Jaime knew his father played a part in encouraging this. After all, why would Walder Frey risk such an action if he had not been assured by a flash of gold?

Regardless of what the 'Red Wedding' had been, Jaime Lannister was free and only a few days ride from King's Landing. Cersei was close, Tyrion was close. This event deserved celebration, but Jaime didn't feel much like celebrating. Drinking didn't appeal to him right now, nor did whoring, though whoring never did catch his interest.

Shouldn't he be happier? Why not? Because he hadn't be present for the war's glorious ending? Perhaps. Having a war end under your nose was a rather deflating thing. Perhaps he feared facing his father. Again, a possibility. Every man in the seven kingdoms feared to face Tywin Lannister on a good day. Jaime could only imagine the sort of lecture that he had in store for him.

Whatever the reason for his heavy heart, it must have dulled his senses and slowed his reflexes. He should have felt the hand reaching beneath his cloak. But he didn't notice someone stood behind him until he heard the soft jingle of coins from his purse.

He rose, drawing his sword. The tip of the blade swung out in a wide arc as he turned around, brushing inches from the nose of a cloaked figure. He was small, perhaps only a boy, but the hood and long black cloak hid any physical features. The thief backed up a few steps, safely away from the tip of the blade. His boots crunched in the fallen leaves but he knew how to step. When Jaime stepped forward, he stepped back. When Jaime stepped slightly sideways, the boy mirrored him, nearly at the same time.

"You're a practiced thief, aren't you, boy?" Jaime said, stepping over a log in front of him and pressing the thief a bit away from the edge of camp. "But you picked the wrong man to steal from. Do you have any idea who I am?"

"Ser Jaime Lannister. The Kingslayer." The voice replied from beneath the cloak. A young boy indeed. His voice had not even changed yet. "And recent prisoner of the northmen." A flash of white teeth came from the shadows of the hood and Jaime realized that this _boy _was mocking him. Most thieves had more sense than that. Most people in general had more sense than that.

"Recent prisoner, yes." Jaime said, raising his sword a bit. The blade caught in the fading light, flashing as brightly as the boy's smile. "But as you see, I have my weapon back. I slayed a king with this blade, you know. I might slay you. I'm a dangerous man."

"Which is precisely why I chose to steal from you." The boy said.

Jaime cocked his head to the side. "Enlighten me."

"My master says that there is no use to stealing if you don't have the fear of death in you." The boy replied.

"Your master." Jaime stepped to the side and the boy mirrored him again. It was a shame Jaime couldn't see his eyes. Then it might be easier to trick him. "You're a slave?"

"A student."

"In pickpocketing?"

"No, in combat."

Jaime's eyebrows arched. "Ah, a fighter. Well, let's see how good you are then, boy. Do you think you could beat Jaime Lannister?"

He expected the boy to run, actually. Jaime knew well enough that only about three men in Westeros were a match for him. He was not at his strongest. He'd spent a long time without a sword in his hand and not always with enough to eat. But since he'd achieved his freedom he felt his old strength returning to him. At his best or not, this boy didn't stand a chance against him. If he had run, Jaime would have let him. He didn't feel like a chase, and the boy carried mere pocket change in his hand. Lannisters never ran short of gold.

"I'm not sure." The boy said, reaching beneath his cloak to grasp at two hilts, instead of turning tail and fleeing. "Perhaps I should try."

"I'll kill you easily, you know."

"So you think."

"So, I know."

"Have you ever fought me before?"

"You would not be alive if I had."

"Then you cannot know." Another flash of teeth from beneath the hood.

"You really are stupid, aren't you, boy?"

"My master says that sometimes." The boy drew his two blades. Jaime found that, instead of blades, the boy bore two long knives, thin and slightly curved. They were made of good steel but much too light to compete with a sword like Jaime's.

"Thin blades." He commented.

"Thin enough to slip through the gaps in your armor."

"Its much better protection than skin."

"That depends."

"On what?"

"If you hit me."

Jaime chuckled and shook his head. "Your funeral, boy. What is your name? I prefer to know, before I kill you."

"Nim." The boy reached up drew back his hood. "And drop the 'boy'. I'm a girl, stupid."

Jaime blinked. Indeed the 'boy' was a girl. No wonder the voice had sounded so young. It belonged to a woman. He couldn't quite tell her age because, while she had a small stature and flat features, she did not speak like a child. She was dark haired and grey eyed with pale skin. She looked like a northern born girl. Jaime had spent enough time around north men to know. Dirt clung to her face as it did to peasants of flea bottom but she spoke with a cadence that rang of higher born. Perhaps her mother had worked for a lady.

"So you are," he finally said. "Nim of what family."

"Of none." She replied. "I am Nim the Nameless."

"It has a ring to it."

"Sort of like Kingslayer."

"You're trying to test my patience, aren't you?"

"Master says a tested patience makes a weaker fighter."

Jaime sighed. She confident, this one, but utterly stupid. "I'll give you one last chance to run, Nim the Nameless."

"What, you'd let me go with your gold?"

"I happen to have that in high supply. That's just a bit of—"

"And your knife?"

"My—" Jaime stopped when he saw the girl waving a dagger with a golden hilt in the air and he cursed inwardly.

"I guess Lannister ears are more in tuned to the jingle of coins than the sliding of steel. Typical." She glanced at the blade. "It looks like very nice steel." She grinned again. "Its valyrian steel, isn't it? I like it."

With these words, she sealed the fight. No one would just let a thief run off with a valyrian steel weapon. The Lannisters lacked a valyrian steel sword unlike the other major families. The few weapons they had were trinkets compared to the other family heirlooms but they were too valuable to give up to so easily.

"I suppose you'll have to fight for the right to keep it then." Jaime said, holding his sword out to the side in preparation for the first strike.

"That was my plan, ser." The title rolled from her tongue like an insult.

"Of course it was." Jaime said. Then he swung his sword upwards in a blow that would have caught her in the chest and slit her all the way to her chin. She caught the blow between her two long knives. A ring of steel thundered through the forest's edge.

"_This is how my war should have ended." _Jaime thought. _"In the thick of a fight. Not in a prison cell."_

Oddly enough, that ring of steel, and the rush of blood in his ears, made him feel better.

* * *

_**A/N: So obviously Jaime was never freed by Catelyn Stark so he never lost his hand. This is one of many small changes main to the main plot. Hopefully it shouldn't be too confusing.**_

_**Thanks for reading. Please review and tell me what you think.**_


	3. Chapter 2: Fluid as Water

**_A/N: Here's the next chapter. Thanks to everyone for the reviews, follows and favorites. _  
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**Chapter 2: Fluid as Water, Deadly as Poison**

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

_Focus._

_Do not show weakness or fear._

_Mask emotions with a smile._

_Breathe._

Each time Nim fought, she could hear Lantos' voice echoing in her head, like something out of a dream. Being so lacking in memories, she clung to the few she had desperately, making an effort to memorize each detail. She could hear Lantos' voice everywhere she went in his strange, silky accent. She could see his bronzed skin, glistening with sweat, though he moved so effortlessly with the long knives. She could see the glimmer in his eye and the grin when she did something correctly. She could smell sea water and sawdust on his clothes and feel the heat of the late summer sun as it beat down on them, mercilessly.

It was just as well that his words came so easily to her, as if they were her own thoughts. She needed his advice in her fight with the Kingslayer.

It was stupid to accept his challenge. It was stupid to speak to him in the first place. Nim had confidence in her abilities against normal men. She had fought once or twice with gold cloaks and with other soldiers. They were a common breed, however. Jaime Lannister was renowned for his skill with a sword, and by how he moved, she knew the tales of his talent were well deserved.

_Fluid as water. Deadly as poison._

Nim remembered the words well. She hadn't wanted to fight like water, initially. _"What good is water?" _she had asked. _"There's no strength there."_

"_Not initially. But water breaks off rock piece by piece. Just watch the shores of Kings Landing. Watch the waves hit rock over and over again, taking pieces away. Does the rock take away pieces of the water? No."_

"_Still."_

"_Remember, pastless girl: Liquid can be deadly as rock. Water can turn to poison with the right dose of nightshade."_

So, Nim did as he asked, and after three years she had grown used to fluidity. She tried to keep herself fluid as the Kingslayer lunged at her.

His blade sliced near her face and chest with nearly every swing, sometimes whistling past her ear, so close that she thought she felt the cold steel brush her skin. Each time she spun out of the way just in time. Her feet slid with practiced movements across the dead leaves and dirt of the forest floor. For her style of fighting, footwork meant everything. One false step could cost her life.

She circled around the knight, using the bulk of his armor to her advantage. Large armor meant more blind spots, especially when she stood much shorter than him. When she found the right openings she struck out with her thin blades, trying to slide the tip through the gaps in his armor and nick his side.

But he was fast too. Very fast. And his footwork nearly matched hers. He bore a fighting style typical of westeros but he did not approach a fight hacking and lunging like many of the knights and soldiers Nim had fought in the past. He knew the value of patience too. And fluidity.

"Light on your feet, aren't you?" The Kingslayer smirked as she narrowly ducked under his sword, stumbling slightly.

"It's one of my stronger suits." Nim muttered, trying to keep her face an unreadable mask. The sweat beading across her face and her heavier breathing betray her.

"Have you considered what may happen if you start to slow down." He stabbed forward and she parried the blow. The force sent vibrations shooting through her arms.

"I'm trying not to."

She continued to match him blow for blow, her arms becoming number with time. Each strike rattled her to her bones. She could boast speed but never strength in her combat. The Kingslayer did not have this problem.

At last he caught her by surprise. A sudden, upward strike knocked hard into each of her blades as she tried to cross them. Both spun from her hands and stuck in the dirt in between her and her opponent. Before she could retrieve her blades he had swept her feet out from under her with his foot. The tip of his sword gleamed as it leveled inches from her throat.

"I warned you, didn't I?" He smirked. Nim's fists clenched at such a smirk.

"I don't listen to warnings."

"So, I noticed." The Kingslayer said. "You held on for a longer time than most. You can give yourself that credit before I kill you."

"Flattery won't do me much good if I'm dead." Nim said, watching him with narrowed eyes. His body had unclenched slightly and his grip on his sword was lazy. His guard had dropped now that he had won the fight.

But he hadn't won yet. Nim was still alive so he hadn't won yet.

"True." the Kingslayer agreed. His sword raised a fraction, as if about to prepare for a strike. The moment the tip was no longer level with her throat, Nim sprung into action. She pulled the knife, Jaime Lannister's knife, from beneath her cloak and slashed his hand, cutting his fingers and palm deep enough for him to drop his sword. She shot past him, scooping up each of her long knives. Before the knight could turn she stood behind him, both blades aimed at a gap in his armor, just beneath the right arm. She placed her right foot on the hilt of his sword where it lay in the dead leaves.

"But since I plan on living a bit longer." Nim said coolly. "I'll take your flattery, _ser_."

The Kingslayer's laugh was hoarse and marred by surprise, maybe even anger at being disarmed by her. "Quick one, aren't you?"

"So, I'm told." Nim said.

"Oy, Lannister! Where'd you run off to?" a voice called from back at the camp.

Nim smiled. "It would be funny if they came across this, don't you think?"

The Kingslayer glanced over his shoulder to glare at her. How refreshing to see him no longer smirking.

"You can tell them about your close encounter with Nim the Nameless later, I guess." She withdrew her blades from the gaps in his armor and returned them swiftly to her cloak. "Thank you, for the exercise… and the knife." She gave him a short bow. Then she was off, quick as the wind. He would not have a hope of chasing her.

Still, she didn't stop running until she was nearly at the other side of the forest. Only then did she let her smirk drop and she leaned against a tree, gasping for breath.

_One second slower…_

He would have killed her. She was sure of it. Death had brushed too close for comfort.

Yes, this would certainly be one to tell Lantos.

* * *

Jaime still cursed himself—and the damn thief—hours after she had scampered off into the forest. He shouldn't have let his guard down. He shouldn't have expected her to die without a fight.

Expectations were always a great weakness in a fight, but Jaime had a habit of expecting a lot. He _expected _to beat almost every man he fought one on one and he _expected _to defeat every girl. He _expected _to defeat a girl as small and stupid as Nim as well, but in the end, she had disarmed him, with his own knife, no less.

Usually, Jaime's expectations panned out. He simply believed he was one of the finest swordsmen in Westeros. Most people did not prove him wrong. During the war, the part he had been present for at least, he had cut down many men and boys who were stupid enough to attack him. He had once cut down Ned Stark's finest men with ease and he knew he could have cut down Ned Stark himself if the fight had not been interrupted. From the age of sixteen he had become an expert at killing and he was better than most at it.

Nim the Nameless was as her name implied. No one. Yet she beat him. Why?

Well he wasn't at his strongest. He could blame his recent imprisonment and lack of practice on his failure to kill her. Perhaps her stance had thrown him off. She moved unlike any Westeros soldier he'd ever fought and she was a much smaller target as well.

That must have been the reason he had not beaten her.

But he _had _beaten her. She lay disarmed, on the ground, inches from death. She had lost.

But he had dropped his guard. He'd gotten lazy and given her an opening. He had talked too much, been too arrogant.

He doubted he would come across the thief again, but if he did, he would not make the same mistake a second time. He would give her the credit she was due and give her no openings to bounce back.

If he ran across her again, he would simply kill her.

The men of the camp asked many times why Jaime Lannister seemed so grim, and how he cut his hand, but he never answered them. The answer would have only earned more ridicule and he had enough of that to last him a life time.

_Kingslayer._

_Prisoner of the North_

Damn girl.

* * *

_**A/N: Hope you enjoyed. Also, I'd like to answer a question from one of my reviewers, who questioned how Jaime would question his feelings for Cersei if he has not lost his hand and gone through that character arc. Jaime has not questioned his feelings about Cersei yet and he won't for a little while. Right now, Nim is just an annoying girl who he would kill if he saw her again. Jaime wants to see his sister again, and he's on the way back from the war to do so. Nim is a bump in the road that happens to come back later. Its a slow to grow romance, like I said. Its more in the vein of a Jaime and Brienne relationship in that it starts as enemies and gradually grows to friendship.**_

_**Until that happens, I hope you enjoy the journey. Thanks for reading and review to tell me what you think!**_


	4. Chapter 3: The Meaning of Death

**_A/N: Thanks for the reviews and favorites! This chapter shows the relationship of Lantos and Nim. Then there's some Jaime/Cersei in the second half, sense obviously he still loves her. Hopefully I wrote that pairing correctly. Nim and Jaime don't cross paths in this chapter but they will soon. Favorite, follow and review!_  
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**Chapter 3: The Meaning of Death**

Lantos found Nim in flea bottom, four days after her run in with the Kingslayer, in the back corner of a tavern. It was just past midday and the sun bore down on the slums of King's Landing with such ferocity that even the whores with their sheer, breezy outfits, broke into a sweat the moment they set foot outside. Many had flocked to the water to cool off. Others to the shade. Nim sat in the tavern in cobbler's square, a mug in her hand, inspecting her new dagger under the hem of her cloak, which guarded the pretty steel from unwelcome eyes. She knew that the Septons and Grand Maesters said winter was coming but it sure didn't feel like it.

"Have you found something special on this long trip of yours?" Lantos appeared next to her without any common introduction. Lantos was never one for formalities.

. In Nim's experience, she never found Lantos. He found her. The man blended into nearly every environment and he would never place himself in a situation where he stuck out. Nim used to jump out of her skin every time he popped out of nowhere. Now, she just glanced back at him.

"Maybe I did." She smiled. "You left me awhile."

"A month only. I have left you for two months before, child." Lantos grinned. "Do not tell me you were lonely."

Nim made to shove him but he backed easily out of the way. "I wasn't lonely. And don't call me a child."

"You are small, like a child."

"It's not my fault I can't grow very tall." Nim said. "I'm eighteen."

"You do not know that." Lantos said. "You did not know how old you were when you woke up."

"You said I was fifteen."

"A guess."

"Well, guess or not, assuming I was fifteen, I'm eighteen now and that is _not _a child." Nim crossed her arms.

"As you say." Lantos' eyebrow quirked. "But it does not matter what people think you are, child or adult. You are a pair of long knives. You are a shadow in the forest. Age does not matter." He tapped Nim on the chest. "In fact your stature benefits you. Men are more likely to doubt you and doubt brings weakness."

Nim's mouth twitched as she remembered her fight with the Kingslayer. "I know that well enough."

"So, did you experience this on your journey? What did you find?"

"A few purses filled with coin." Nim said. "But my most recent training exercise was the most fruitful." She drew the Lannister's purse from her cloak. "A purse filled with gold. And…" she drew out the knife. "A Valyrian steel blade."

Lantos' eyebrows rose. "You have stolen from a highborn, haven't you?" He fingered the crimson purse. "Lannister?"

"Yes." Nim said.

"Let me venture a guess…" Lantos tapped his chin. "One of the cousin families."

Nim's smile widened. "No."

"The main family then."

"Yes."

"Not the dwarf I hope. I have told you about stealing from those at a disadvantage."

"No not the dwarf." Nim said, struggling to hide her smile.

"Ah…" Lantos nodded. "The Kingslayer."

"Yes."

Nim saw pride flash through Lantos' gaze, but something else. Something she likened to hesitation or worry, though she did not understand why.

"A risky move." He said at last, turning the purse in his hand.

"You're the one who said that the training exercise is nothing if there is no risk." Nim retorted.

"Indeed I did. But there is a difference between risk and probable death."

"I didn't die."

"But you came close, did you not?"

Nim looked away, sitting down at the table between them and drumming her fingers against the half rotted wood.

"That is what I thought." Lantos sat across from her. "What I told you is true. A risk is necessary for a successful training exercise. But you risk many things practicing on Jaime Lannister. First you risk his sword. He's one of the five most skilled fighters in this land." His mouth quirked. "Though he would meet his match in Bravos, I'm sure."

Nim smiled a bit. She'd love to see Lantos fight the Kingslayer. He would win without a doubt.

"And he's not afraid to kill. He's killed many people. If you had made the slightest mistake, he may have killed you." Lantos continued. "But there is another risk. His family is one of the most powerful in Westeros. His nephew sits on the Iron Throne and his father is the hand of the king. High Garden will soon join houses with them and they have allies in the north. But for each ally they have many more enemies."

"I know all of that." Nim said. "What's your point?"

"My point is that the highest families of this land are caught up in a dangerous game that you must avoid. It is a game where strength of steel means nothing and honorable laws mean nothing. Their plots are as dark as the sewage of Flea Bottom. Whatever you do, you must not become involved with their game, Nim."

Nim shook her head. "Lantos, I never plan on seeing the man again. If I did, he'd kill me for sure. He made the mistake of doubting me the first time. I got away with my life because of his arrogance. He won't make that mistake again." She leaned back in her chair. "Someone like me has no claim to game's like there's anyway. I'm a nameless girl from who knows where, picking pockets and studying from a once great Bravos fighter."

"Once great?" Lantos' eyebrows cocked upwards. "Perhaps your fight with the Kingslayer has made you arrogant yourself."

Nim grinned but the corners of her mouth quickly dropped. "He… really did come close to killing me. I got lucky and got away because of his arrogance." She shivered. "It was strange. I haven't come that close to death before. After you taught me how to use these long knives, I've been able to outdo most of my victims. But this…"

"So you have had a brush with death, is that what you believe?" Lantos asked.

Nim nodded.

"Good," Lantos said and Nim looked at him in surprise. "Better to have a brush than a full encounter. Better for a person to meet death early and get acquainted. That way, you might become friends with him before you die." He leaned forward across the table. "Listen to me, pastless girl. Every time you encounter death, you must give him a smile. And if you speak to him, you tell him only one thing."

"What?"

"Not today." Lantos reached out and ruffled Nim's hair. "You have done well on your own for this past month and you have found many souvenirs." He tossed her the smallest of the purses, filled with only a few silver coins. "Do with that as you will. And keep your special knife. We will train later. Understand?"

"Yes, Lantos." She stuck the purse and knife into her cloak. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me. You helped yourself, Nim the Nameless." Lantos rose and within minutes he had disappeared into the crowds of the tavern, blended in again. If Nim had tried to go after him she knew she would not find him.

Instead she finished her drink and rose to her feet, stepping out onto the ungodly hot streets of Flea bottom. She would have to find some place suitable to spend her coin. She had earned it, after all.

* * *

The Red Keep was quite a sight after all of this time. From the moment Jaime spotted King's Landing on the horizon he hadn't been able to think of anything else. The scorching heat suddenly didn't matter and nor did any of his outer and inner battle scars. He felt so close to Cersei. He knew that she sat somewhere within those walls, probably miserable, as usual. Cersei used to say that while Jaime took all the fun and happiness, she bore all the misery. An untruthful statement, of course. Jaime just succeeded more often at hiding misery and doubt than Cersei did.

She liked to think that she had a good mask for that sort of thing, but never to him. He could tell by the way her eyelids twitched and her mouth tightened when she was unhappy. Since she had married Robert, she was usually unhappy.

Jaime lived for the moments when he could make her smile with genuine happiness.

He remembered a time when King's Landing had been a prison rather than a home. A prison where men burned alive and the Mad King laughed at their screams. And Cersei hadn't even been there amidst it all. Jaime sometimes wondered how many men he had watched die, a pointless task, considering they were beyond counting.

He supposed it didn't matter anymore. King's Landing no longer seated a blood thirsty tyrant on its throne. That's what he hoped at least.

* * *

She sat on her bed in her chambers, facing away from the door. Her golden hair was longer than he remembered, but still the same shade of gold he knew so well. The same shade of gold that covered his own head. He remembered how angry Cersei became when they were young, concerning her hair. She wanted to keep it cropped as Jaime did, but ladies were meant to have long hair, flowing to their waists. They didn't understand then why they must be forced to look so different when they had come into the world nearly identical.

Cersei had long stopped trying to fight the conventions of hair but in her heart, her rebellion lingered. Jaime had always loved that about her.

He leaned against the door when she did not turn around, content to watch the back of her head until she noted his presence. Her shoulders hung heavier when she was alone. Only in solitude did she allow herself to display weakness.

Several minutes passed before she seemed to sense someone else in the room. She whipped around, her mouth opening as if to chastise whoever had entered without asking first. The words died on her lips when she saw Jaime. He couldn't help but smirk at the unmasked shock on her face. Her green eyes, identical to his, swept over him, as if surveying him for damage. When her eyes met his again, she managed to speak.

"You're later than expected."

"I'm not so late." Jaime said. "A few days at most."

"Anything could have happened in those few days." Cersei said. Her frown countered his amusement. "We have enemies everywhere. Surviving northern rebels, Iron Islanders, Stannis, the Brotherhood without—"

"Alright, alright, calm down." Jaime stepped forward, holding up one hand. "You sound almost worried, sweet sister."

Cersei crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. "Incredible...You're still joking. I would think nearly two years as a prisoner would have sobered your sense of humor."

"Not at all. It seems to have sobered yours though." Jaime said.

"Some of us have been trying to run the country."

"And worrying about me, it seems."

Cersei brushed her hair from her face, still not meeting his eyes. Why did she always struggle to show happiness? Had Jaime stolen her joy in the womb, and she all of his seriousness? No… once they were more similar. Once, when they were children, she smiled more often.

Why should she be so miserable now? She was free of the drunken fool who once called himself a king. Her son by him sat on the throne. The north had been scattered to the wind. By all rights she should be happy.

"I'm alright, Cersei." He lifted a hand to raise her chin. "There's no damage. You don't have to worry anymore. I'm right here."

She met his eyes at last. "Yes… it seems you are."

Her mouth twitched. A near smile. The simplest motion that hinted happiness was enough for Jaime to draw her into his arms.

It seemed then as if all boundaries dissolved. Their bodies melded together in the embrace, as if they were meant to do so. They were, as far as Jaime was concerned.

_We came into this world together. We belong together._

A simple matter of "morality" could never keep them apart.

"Do we have privacy?" Jaime growled out against Cersei's mouth as he began tugging at her clothes.

"We do if you locked the door." She gasped out.

"It so happens I did."

"Were you expecting me to bring me to bed the moment you saw me?"

"Something like that."

Jaime silenced them both soon after with an aggressive kiss.

All of his problems—His imprisonment in the north, the long journey home, and the troubles on the road—soon dissolved from his mind. Only his other half mattered in that moment.

* * *

_**A/N: Hope you enjoyed. Jaime is a surprisingly difficult character to write and he and Cersei especially are difficult. Hopefully I did alright though. See you next chapter. Please review and tell me what you think!**_


	5. Chapter 4: Stirring Uncertainties

**_A/N: _****_Thank you for the continued support everyone. I always appreciate reviews, favorites and follows._**

**_To give people a clearer picture of how I've changed events: The War with the North lasted three and a half years, beginning when Ned Stark was imprisoned for treason. Jaime was taken hostage 6 months into the war's beginning. The Battle of Blackwater occurred two years into the war with the North and Sansa Stark escaped with the Hound during said battle. Ages of characters have been changed for future reasons. Sansa Stark was sixteen rather than thirteen when Ned Stark's head was removed and Arya Stark was fourteen. Both of those characters will come into play later._**

**_Now, without further ado, here's the chapter! Enjoy and Review!_**

**Chapter 4: Stirring Uncertainties**

"You are not fluid enough." Lantos chided, whacking Nim on the back of the legs with his wooden weapon. She stumbled forward, glaring at him.

"It's not that I wasn't fluid." She protested. "I wasn't ready that time."

"Not fluid and not prepared." Lantos clicked his tongue. "Two flaws of combat which will get you killed."

"Sorry." Nim muttered.

Lantos' eyebrows rose as he inspected her. "You are distracted. Tell me why, child."

"I'm not a—"

"You are a child to me and I may call you as I like, since you are nameless." Lantos said shortly. "That was not the answer to my question."

Nim lowered her practiced long knives. The tips dragged in the dirt as she did. "I just… I wondered something."

"Wondering does no good if you do not say what is on your mind." Lantos said. "Tell me."

"When I fought the King's Slayer, he asked what family I was from." Nim said. "As if he expected them to be someone he knew. Why is that?"

Lantos observed her for a long moment before he spoke. "Does it matter what he wondered your family was? You have no family."

"I did once."

"They were obviously not important enough for you to remember them."

Nim glared at him. "You know I would get my memory back if I could. But I don't know how."

Lantos sighed. "I do know." He leaned against the wall of the tavern they were practicing behind. "Nim, you have been given a gift, of sorts. You are able to see the world through unburdened eyes. You have no bias. No loyalty. You are simply yourself. If you had knowledge of your family… more would be expected of you."

"They're still my family." Nim said. "Wherever they are. I'd like to know why the Kingslayer thought I might be from a family he'd recognize."

Lantos shrugged. "You speak with the cadence of a higher born. And so you always have. Perhaps you were once a lady."

"I doubt that." Nim rolled her eyes.

Lantos smiled slightly. "As I said, it no longer matters. Now you are only a pair of long knives. You are only Nim. Isn't that enough for you?"

Nim shrugged. "I guess so."

"Good." Lantos said. "Now, it is time you rested. We leave early tomorrow."

"Leave?" Nim's brow furrowed. "For where?"

"The Kingswood."

"Why?"

"I have some business there and I'd like you to come with me. After that, you will be free to go your own way once again."

"You'll be leaving again?" Nim's shoulder's sagged. "But we've only been together for a week."

"True. And in a few days we shall again be apart." Lantos said, turning to leave. "Rest Nim. And be ready to travel early."

Nim sighed and knelt to store her practice long knives in her pack. She always traveled lightly. Her bag fit neatly beneath her cloak and barely caused any bulge. All her other necessities, her real long knives, daggers and purse, she kept in her belt. She'd always been good at moving at a moment's notice and Lantos was all about a moment's notice.

He left more often now. In the first year after she woke up, she nearly never parted with him. He taught her each and every day, drilling her for hours on end, in order to give Nim a purpose. No matter how tired or beaten down she got, she never became discouraged. She never wanted to quit. What would she do if she did? She had nowhere else to go.

The second year he left her for brief periods. That was when she first began to steal as her 'training exercise'. She survived well enough on her own. But after those brief periods he always came back and continued to train her. He never spoke of what he did in the times he left her. She asked sometimes but she never received a straight answer.

The third year, this year, consisted of the longest gaps. Nim felt a sort of freedom in these periods of independence. But she missed Lantos and she feared what would happen if she did not continue to get better. Her encounter with the Kingslayer proved that she still had much to learn. Maybe she was not learning fast enough so Lantos had begun to let her go.

She shook her head. Lantos wouldn't do that. He knew that he was the only friend she had. He wouldn't abandon her.

She wondered if her family had abandoned her. Or were they out there somewhere, still searching? Still believing she would come home?

Was her home a rundown shack or farmhouse? Or a great castle like the Red Keep? She looked up at the sky, observing the great structure jutting up hundreds of feet above every other building in King's Landing. She couldn't picture herself living in such a great building, being waited on by servants.

Or maybe she did the waiting? Maybe she was a servant to great family and that's why she knew their higher born speech. She knew how to read. Maybe she had access to their books and taught herself. Maybe she had a mother who worked in a keep and taught her the words.

Nim smiled softly at the thought of having a mother. She wondered if she might jog her memory if she walked through the halls of the Red Keep. Would the castle be familiar to her?

Though she had no memories, she always had a peculiar sense of direction in certain places. She knew the Kingsroad when she first stepped onto it. She recognized the Sept of Baelor and she was sure she once entered the city through the Gate of Gods before she lost her memory.

But such knowledge consisted only of vague feelings. It frustrated her, going to familiar places. She could feel the memories pressing at the back of her mind, as if trapped behind a wall. How many times had she dreamed of something she knew was a memory but woke remembering very little of the dream?

She shook her head, rubbing a frustrated hand over her forehead. Lantos was right. It didn't do any good to think about who she used to be. Now she was only Nim. She should be happy with that.

She had been happy with that.

How could such a simple question from the Kingslayer throw her focus so much?

* * *

Leaving King's Landing helped clear Nim's head. There were fewer memories out here. She knew the Kingswood well but not for reasons of her unknown past. Lantos and her had come to the great forest many times for practice or otherwise. She always enjoyed the Kingswood and she enjoyed travelling with Lantos.

"You still haven't told me why we're here." Nim said, trotting beside him.

"That is because you will find out soon enough." Lantos replied.

"Why not now?"

"Because you must learn the value of patience."

"You're not refusing to tell me because you want to teach me patience." Nim muttered. "You said that teaching me patience was a hopeless task."

"It is indeed, but I have renewed the effort."

"I think you're lying."

"Perhaps I am. But it matters not either way."

They continued through the woods in silence, Nim's face drawn in a frown. Lantos was secretive by nature but she hated when things were kept from her. Most of her life had been kept from her since she woke up. She couldn't stand secrets.

Near evening the second day, they stopped in perhaps one of the deepest places of the Kingswood. Lantos raised a hand, looking around as if searching for something. Nim peered out from behind him, grey eyes searching the trees. Then, she caught the movement of a shadow from within the trees. Her long knives were in her hand in an instant but Lantos placed a hand on hers.

"Lower your weapon, child. These are not enemies of ours."

More shadows stirred in the trees and as they came forward, Nim could make out the shapes of men. They were garbed in simple clothes though they were armed. They flew no banner and wore no colors. Were they rebels?

"Lantos." The man at the lead said. "Always nice to see your face. What brings you here?" he glanced down at Nim. "And who is the girl?"

"My name is Nim." Nim answered for herself. "Who are you?"

"We are the Brotherhood without Banners." The man replied, glancing between his companions. "Fighting for the protection of the realm."

Nim's eyes narrowed a bit. "How are you fighting when you're in the deepest parts of the Kingswood? Not much fighting going on here."

"Aye." The man at the lead grinned, rather than be offended by Nim. "But the bannerless need somewhere to retreat to. Lords have their castles and we have the woods." He looked to Lantos. "Sharp tongued girl you've got there."

"She's been sharpening her tongue since before she can remember." Lantos agreed.

"I'm sure." The man said. "So what brings you here, friend?"

"When I can, I make donations to the brotherhood." Lantos said. "And it just so happens I've come across a rather large sum of money recently." He reached into his pockets and pulled at the crimson purse of the Kingslayer. The coins jingled from within. "And so I do my part."

The man took the purse from Lantos and opened it up to peer inside. "Gold." He smiled, looking back at his men. "Quite a bit of gold. And where did you come across this luck?"

_I stole it. _Nim wanted to say. She didn't like the gold she stole being handed over to these men who hid in the woods. They said they fought but she hadn't heard of any battles lately. The Brotherhood without Banners was known, of course. But known for stealing from carts and conducting raiding parties on Lannister, Stark and Baratheon men alike. They were little better than her.

But Lantos cast her a glance and Nim shut her mouth.

"Methods and previous owners matter little." Lantos said. "It is yours now."

"Many thanks, friend." The man nodded. "We still wish you would join us. Someone of your skills would be of great use."

Lantos merely shook his head. "Even a Bannerless enemy is too prominent of a side for me to choose. I prefer to remain side-less."

"As you say." The nodded his head in respect. "We hope to attain another donation from you in the future."

The men turned and left then, fading back into the trees.

"I'm the one who stole that gold. It belonged to us. Why did you give it to them?" Nim asked in a hushed voice as soon as they had disappeared.

"You could never have spent so much gold." Lantos said. "It is better in those hands."

"In the hands of cowards, hiding in the trees?"

"You know little child."

"I know the gold belonged to me." Nim said. "And you gave it up without telling me."

"The gold belonged to the Kingslayer, Nim." Lantos said. "And before that, it belonged to the ground. Possession matters very little. At one time or another, nothing was owned. We are born into this world with nothing. How can we claim possession over money?"

Nim did not answer but her gaze did not soften.

Lantos sighed. "Perhaps you will understand with time. Time does many things to you, Nim. It has hardened you into a warrior. And you've grown from a bony girl to a woman—"

"I thought you said I was a child." Nim said. "And if I'm a woman, why do people still think I'm a boy?"

"They only think you are a boy because you cover yourself with a cloak. In less to cover you, you would not be so lucky." Lantos smiled. "You barely look like the person I found in the woods three years ago. Perhaps time will also bring understanding. But for now, I must leave you."

"Here?" Nim asked, looking around the woods.

"Yes." Lantos said as he walked away. "You may do as you please. I'm sure there is much you can occupy yourself with. Be sure you practice every day."

"I will but why do you have to leave…" Nim began, but he had already moved out of ear shot. She sighed. "…now."

She stood for a long while, unsure of what to do. Then her eyes trailed back to the trees where the Brotherhood had disappeared, moments ago.

"_Perhaps its time for another training exercise." _Nim thought. _"After all, possession is relative. If the gold because mine again, does it matter that it ever belonged to them?"_

She decided that it did not matter, and with this thought on her mind she crept off into the woods, quiet as a shadow, to follow the bannerless men.

* * *

At first glance, everything was as it should be. Jaime had been reinstated as the head of the King's Guard. Cersei and he were reunited. Their father, while currently absent from the capital, was hand of the king. Tyrion sat on the small council. And Jaime's son sat on the iron throne.

Everything seemed perfect for the Lannister family, by all accounts. But Jaime felt a growing sense of unease. Not because of his sister. Not because of his reinstatement in the King's Guard. No. Joffery was the one making him feel uneasy.

Everyone tread carefully around Joffery, even Cersei. They chose their words carefully, pausing frequently to be sure they were not saying something that might offend the king. Many times they chose not to speak at all. Jaime heard whispers of the things Joffery had done since his instatement as king.

Jaime had guessed Joffery was a rash king the moment he heard that the boy had ordered off Ned Stark's head. And he knew he didn't have a kind heart in the first place. But kingship did nothing to improve his temperament it seemed.

His bride to be did, however, though Cersei never stopped mentioning how much she loathed Lady Margery. Much had changed since Jaime was last here. Once, Sansa Stark had been engaged to Joffery but the girl had mysteriously disappeared at the Battle of Blackwater. Not a surprise. True love never bloomed well with a head on a spike looming above it. Of course, the disappearance had been a loss since they had neither Stark girl to trade for Jaime while he was imprisoned. The wild daughter, Arya, had disappeared from the castle the moment her father was thrown in prison. An amazing girl, to escape all of the guards and even Varys' spies. It would be impossible to find her now, if she was still alive. Years had passed since anyone had last seen her, and time had a way of turning children unrecognizable. It had certainly done so to Joffery.

Jaime barely recognized his son anymore. He'd convinced himself it was because he'd spent so much time away from the Capitol but somehow he knew that wasn't true. Council meetings were a tense affair, especially with Tyrion (Who had taken over Little finger's position of treasurer) who had a clear dislike for every word that came out of Joffery's mouth.

"Our sweet sister let him loose from his leash." He had told Jaime in private. "There's no caging him again. A shame, because a cage would be welcome."

In the second council meeting since Jaime had returned, he received his first real orders from his son.

"The Brotherhood is becoming more of a nuisance of late." Varys told the council. "The Lannister men traveling home from the war have been repeatedly attacked. It seems they become bolder."

"Too bold," Joffery said. Such a strange thing to see such an arrogant voice come from such a boy. "If we allow them to continue these raids without resistance then they'll make us look like fools."

"Wise to cut the head of the snake." Grand Maester Pycelle nodded, slowly. He agreed with every word Joffery said, just as he once agreed with every word the mad king said. Jaime had never liked the old man.

"The active group seems to be relatively small." Varys said. "They never put too many of their men into action at once. But the active group should be dealt with none the less."

"Uncle." Joffery said, looking to Jaime. "You will take men to the Kingswood and draw out these cowards. Kill them all. And if there is a leader among them, bring him back to me so that I may personally see to his end."

"The place of the King's Guard is by the King." Cersei warned her son. "Particularly the head of the King's Guard."

"The King's Guard can function for a week without him." Joffery said, silencing Cersei with a cutting gaze. Cersei's eye twitched and her mouth tightened. Unhappy again. Jaime hated to see that.

"It seems wise to send someone trustworthy to lead the party." Varys said. "I would not worry of the King's safety, your grace. We are in a time of relative peace."

"Yes surely the king… and the queen regent," Tyrion cast a look at Cersei. "Can survive without ser Jaime for the week."

If Cersei's gaze could kill, Tyrion would have dropped dead right there. Their relationship certainly hadn't changed.

"As you command, your grace." Jaime nodded. It sounded strange to say such words to a boy, his son no less. But he spoke them even so.

He didn't want to leave the keep so soon after arriving, but killing had a way of clearing his head. The return to King's Landing had been a dizzying escapade of politics, which Jaime had never cared much for. He could see the trouble lurking in the capitol despite the peace. And it all seemed to stem from Joffery.

In a fight Jaime could rely on the simple truths: The man he fought wanted to kill him, and he had to kill him first.

Killing was simpler than politics any day.

* * *

_**A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Nim and Jaime will come into contact again in the next chapter. I had to set everything up first. Reviews make me update faster :) Thanks for reading and have a lovely day.**_


	6. Chapter 5: Bannerless Enemies

**_A/N: _Sorry its been a little while... longer than I intended. This chapter took me a surprisingly long time to right. I think I was having trouble with Jaime's POV. Also I've been really busy, but no excuses.  
**

**Jaime and Nim meet again in this chapter. Trying to keep Jaime in character... he's a bit of an asshole in this chapter as he often is. Thanks for all of your favorites, alerts and reviews as always. Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

**Chapter 5: The Danger of a Bannerless Enemy**

Most days, Nim thought of her spite as an attribute rather than a vice. She couldn't deny the enjoyment she received out of standing up to others with a smirk on her face and a gleam in her eye. Taunts flowed off her tongue like the sweetest of wines. And she loved the surge of in her blood that came from a fight.

Lantos often warned against such foolish desires. One should only fight for necessity or practice, he said. Never for the rush. A rush is a brief and fleeting thing. And often fleeting things can get a swords man killed. Arrogance, recklessness, greed. All of these fleeting things could be death blows to even the greatest swordsmen.

But most times, Nim had a hard time denying herself the rush.

And sometimes she damned her spite and recklessness to the deepest of the seven hells. Take now, for instance.

Branches caught on her cloak as she vaulted through the trees and the sharp ends tangled in her short hair and scratched the surface of her skin. She only felt the slight tug when her skin ripped. No pain. Pain always melted away in the wake of fear and exhilaration.

Footsteps echoed from behind her, heavy boots that snapped branches and crackled leaves with each heavy step. The last time Nim had checked there were ten of them. Usually, the brotherhood would never send out so many pursuers but they had no caravans of supplies to attack at the moment. Perhaps they wanted the practice.

But really, Nim knew they wanted the gold.

With each step she took, she heard the coins jingle in the red pouch that had once belonged to the Kingslayer. And in the much larger bag that she had taken because she could. If she had been smart at all, she would have stuck to the bag she had originally stolen fair and square.

But the second bag had been right there. Right in front of her hands. How could she resist?

She should have resisted. Because now she had ten pursuers. All armed. And there was no way in the seven hells she could beat them all. She'd be lucky if she could kill two before getting stabbed in the back by the other eight.

Placing her hand on a trunk of a tree, she vaulted over with effortless ease. She tried to lose the much larger men by traveling the smaller paths. Squeezing through tree trunks. Ducking under low branches. But these men knew the Kingswood well. They would not be so easily thrown off.

She knew that she could not evade them on the ground. Not for long. So, spotting a low hanging branch, she caught the rough bark between her hands and swung up onto it. Without pausing to inhale she scrambled up into the branches. She jumped from one and into the arms of another tree. The bark scraped the skin almost clean off her skin. Still no pain. Only the rush.

Nim didn't stop until she was four trees away from her original climbing spot, enough off her original path to throw her pursuers off. She waited with ragged breath as their footsteps rushed by. Then the sounds began to fade.

Two solid minutes of silence past and the comforting sound of rustling leaves and twittering birds filled Nim's ears, bringing her breathing back to its normal level. They'd be diverted but not for long. Soon they'd realize she gave them the slip and double back. She had to get out of the Kingswood and fast.

She jumped from her tree and landed lightly in a pile of leaves on the ground. Then she ran.

She found one of the main roads quickly and hurried along. The brotherhood normally kept away from the main road unless they were intercepting a caravan. Afterall, they were criminals. Perhaps if Nim traveled by the main road, she would be safe.

But then a new sound met her ears. Not the sound of tramping boots but of clomping hooves. Nim looked up to see a party of three horses trotting down the road. Lannister horses. And the man at their lead.

The man at their lead was the very man whose old purse she had tucked into her cloak. Jaime Lannister.

"_Seven hells…"_

* * *

Joffery had sent Jaime to the Kingswood with fifty swords. Less than the brotherhood's total numbers but they tended to travel in smaller packs rather than large groups. And many were undisciplined as normal soldiers. They had their skilled warriors of course. Thoros of Myr. Berric Dondarrion. And other nameless renegades with a talent for slaughter. But talents could only go so far against trained soldiers and armor.

Jaime had taken two men to scout up the road from where they had briefly set up camp. Usually he would send another man to do the scouting but he went himself today. He half hoped one of the Brotherhood would charge him from the trees just to give him something to kill. He needed bloodshed to break the tension of the day.

But it wasn't one of the bannerless men who they discovered on the road. But rather a familiar, scraggly girl, covered in dirt, cuts and bruises.

Nim. That nameless runt who had stolen his dagger and gold.

She froze as soon as their eyes met, and Jaime felt rather satisfied to see her fear for a brief moment. She had kept an impressive mask in their first encounter but she knew well enough that he wouldn't allow her to leave alive this time.

He couldn't let her leave alive this time.

"Who's that, my lord?" the man to his right asked.

"A known thief." Jaime replied. "It seems as if she may have friends in these woods. Maybe with the brotherhood. Not a surprise."

"Friends… right." Nim muttered. "You know, this is a terrible time. It really couldn't be worse."

"I'm glad to hear it." Jaime said, a smirk curling over his face.

"Do you want her questioned or killed?" The man to his left asked.

"There are plenty more like her." Jaime said, without much hesitation. "Ride her down."

But no sooner had the command left his lips, the girl dove off the road and into the trees. Jaime kicked his horse forward, cantering after her. He could corner her before she got far. So long as he managed to trap her before the woods became too thick. He maneuvered his horse quickly through the foliage, and his horse moved without question. Horses trained for soldiers had faced battlefields much worse than this. The girl couldn't hope to divert them simply by diving into the trees.

He caught her in a small clearing only several yards away from the woods, cutting off her escape path. He jumped off his horse, drawing his sword quickly from its sheath. "You seem less prepared this time, girl."

"Right…" her grey eyes darted about, as if she was expecting some other enemy to emerge from the trees. "Maybe you could keep your voice down? I think you should."

"Why would I do that?"

"No reason. The thought just occurred to me."

She certainly sounded as unhinged as she appeared and Jaime didn't think he was the only cause. But he didn't much care who else caused her unease.

His two other men emerged in the clearing behind them. They had to abandon their horses at the road, as they were not as well trained and had refused to cross through the trees. But now they had her cornered between three armored men.

Nim hastily drew her long knives, but her hands seemed to shake at the hilts. He could see that her palms were scraped bloody and her face had been cut numerous times by branches. Had she been running from something?

Jaime nodded to his men behind Nim and they lashed out at her. She dropped under the swing of both their swords and rolled backwards, slashing out with her knives. The blades glanced off their armor with a loud clang. Jaime's eyes narrowed slightly. Yes, her strikes seemed much less controlled today. Her movement was last minute and erratic. Exhaustion perhaps.

One of the men stabbed out at her from the front. She side stepped and stabbed upwards with the blade, catching him across the wrist. His grip on the sword faltered and she slammed her body into his legs, sending him falling and the sword tumbling from his hands. She stabbed downwards, sinking the knife deep into his throat. She could fight well enough to kill, it seemed. But with such irregular movements, she could not hope to fair well against Jaime.

The surviving man let out a yell and lunged at her. She backed up, bending backwards with each step to avoid the cut of his blade. She finally dropped and rolled under his feet, drawing her blades sharply across the unprotected back of his knees. He dropped and she stood, panting for breath, her eyes wild. She began to raise her blades, intent on killing his second man, but Jaime interceded in that moment sliding his sword in front of her strike with ease. With a sharp flick of his wrist he sent her knives flying from her hands, still slick with blood. She stumbled backwards, grey eyes filled with a mix of fear and hatred.

"You should have known better than to cross swords with me in the first place, girl." Jaime said. "A Lannister always pays his debts."

"I should have killed you." Nim spat. Jaime's brow furrowed. Seeing her unhinged stood in sharp contrast to the last time he fought with her. But it was also familiar in some way. He recognized the look in her eyes. Had he seen it on her face before? Or on another face. He couldn't figure it out. But the anger in those grey eyes seemed so familiar.

Not that it mattered now.

"Probably." Jaime agreed. "So why didn't you?"

"I'm a thief, not a murderer."

"Tell that to the dead man over there."

"He attacked me first."

"Right." Jaime said, keeping pace with Nim as she continued to back up. He saw her eyes flash as she glanced to the right, towards her fallen weapon. A second later she bolted for it, but this time, Jaime wasn't about to let her get what she wanted. With a swift jerk of his foot, he knocked her off her feet and to the ground. He raised his sword over his head to deliver the finishing blow.

"My lord!" the surviving man called out in warning. Jaime turned in time to see an arrow sprout from the man's throat, and just in time to block the sword strike from another man. One of the Brotherhood's rabble. Out of the corner of his eye, Jaime saw Nim scramble away, going for her weapons but he didn't have time to stop her. He had more pressing matters at hand now.

The man who had attacked him tried once again for a strike but Jaime opened his stomach with a well-placed slash of his own and knocked him hard in the head with his armored hand, sending him falling to the ground. He turned about and found himself faced with nine other men, all of the brotherhood. Most wielded swords, two wielded a bow and arrow. None of them were known to Jaime's eyes, but that meant nothing. Nine against one provided unfavorable odds.

"This is why I said not to make so much noise." He heard the girl mutter. He glanced over his shoulder to see her standing back to back with him. Only then did he realized that she was _not _allies with the brotherhood.

"This lot was after you?" Jaime asked.

"Yes, they were." She sighed.

"She stole a good bit of coin from us." One of the men, who Jaime perceived to be the leader, spoke. "We want it back."

"Some of it belonged to me." Nim said. "I stole it in the first place."

"And the extra you stole from us?"

"A gift of course."

Jaime smirked and shook his head. "Seems you landed yourself into a precarious predicament, girl."

"And you as well, Lannister." The leading man said. "We wanted to catch the thief but we're just fine with catching the Kingslayer as well."

"My father would not let that go unpaid."

"He left you in the hands of the north for three years." The man smirked. Others around him snickered.

Jaime kept his confident smirk present but anger burned through him. He raised his sword but made no reply. "How do you think you'll fair against these men, girl?" he asked.

"I have no idea." She replied. "But I hope you're as good as they say because we might need that now."

"We?"

"Did you plan on fighting me in _addition_ to the nine men?"

Jaime sighed. A good point. "If you live, I'll kill you afterwards."

"If I live, you're welcome to try." Nim replied evenly, turning her long knives in her hands.

The man leading the hunting party smirked. "Kill the thief, try to take to Kingslayer alive."

The men took this as their cue to attack and Jaime quickly found himself caught up in the battle.

Well, he had wanted a good fight to clear his head. He just didn't think it would be under these circumstances.

* * *

**_A/N: Something you'll quickly notice... I'm terrible with cliff hangers. I love using them. _****_So, Jaime would have definitely killed Nim had they not been interrupted. The question is, what will happen to them now?_**

**_Next chapter will hopefully be out soon. In the mean time, feel free to follow me on twitter at AimeeHyndman or subscribe to me on youtube (Kallypso8) where I've recently started putting out video reviews. Thanks for reading, favoriting and reviewing and I hope you enjoyed!_**


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